


Somebody Like Me

by jackelope



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Quite Smut I guess??, Oral Sex, Scissoring, Trans Eugene Porter, and also there's feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21859438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackelope/pseuds/jackelope
Summary: It's her first, always her first.
Relationships: Eugene Porter/Juanita Sanchez | Princess
Kudos: 3





	Somebody Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to re-teach myself it's ok to write short fic and not everything has to be long as all hell and,, I've wanted to do something with this pairing idea for a while anyway so,, this drabble

It's her first, always her first.

Eugene is a meticulous beast by nature, a person who likes his patterns. Princess never argues, though, just pulls Eugene's pillows up behind her back so she can sit up a little and watch him while he's between her legs. Her skin is already hot to the touch by the time she has her slender legs draped over Eugene's shoulders. Within moments her warm, petite hands are threading through his hair, slowly combing out the waves being braided always leaves behind. Playing with Eugene's hair all but melts him; he's astounded by how quickly Princess has learned him to know as much already, yet at the same time he doesn't like how distracted he gets when he can feel her fingers gliding through his hair like that. He wants to be focused entirely on her, give her the worship she deserves. She is a Princess, after all.

He laps at her the way waves lap at a beach – a strong, steady rhythm, placid on the surface but with a digging undertow. Gradually the tide rises over her, dragging more and more of her down the same way the sea pulls at its shores, and she gasps for breath and tightens her legs around Eugene to stay afloat. He reciprocates, holding onto her in turn, still careful not to grasp her thighs too hard for fear of leaving a mark on her tender skin. Eugene knows when she's slipping under, can hear the whimpers from her heart-shaped lips grow louder and more fervent and feel her writhing as she arches her back to plead for more. This might be his favorite part, but he doesn't have the constitution to tease her too long, and he knows it won't take much more to sink her anyway. Then she tightens her legs around him, folds her heels into his back to push him forward, and with a feeble handful of his hair she whimpers, “Please...”

And just like that, it's over. Eugene isn't thinking while the wave breaks, just acting, more aggressive than he ever is. Eugene's 'aggressive' is still quite gentle, all things considered, but it's more than enough for the both of them. Princess holds onto his hair tightly but doesn't pull. Eugene is more than happy to be her anchor, to let her keep her hands rooted in his hair to guide her back after the high fades, knowing that even overcome by the ecstatic feeling coursing through every one of her nerves, she's conscientious of him. Not only is she beautiful, she's thoughtful, adoring, wants to love and be loved in return. She wants to prove herself worthy of affection, thinks she needs to, but Eugene knew she was from the first moment he ever laid eyes on her.

Eugene stops, lets her have her moment of rest, rubs the side of his face softly against her inner thigh. Neither surface is quite hotter than the other. When Princess says his name, he lifts his head, and no sooner has he laid eyes on her face than she's pulled him up to sit flush with her for a moment, legs still wrapped around him, so their lips can touch again. She laves her tongue against his own, then pulls his lower lip her teeth to taste herself there as well. With a glimmer of ferocity in her eyes, she grins and giggles, _“My turn.”_ , as if his position was the one meant to be envied.

Then, with amazing quickness, Princess has slipped her way out from under him at a moment's notice. As if by magic, they've swapped places, all in the span of a few seconds. He folds his legs over her, savoring every scrap of contact between his skin and hers. She's still all but feverishly hot, all over, from her release, and he can feel the sweat deep in the thicket of her hair. She is more playful in this position, wriggling impatiently between his legs, barely stifling a giggle as she chews at her lower lip. An untrained eye might have assumed she was just savoring the moment, but Eugene can see the mischievous thoughts dancing through her eyes. She has such pretty eyes, wide and dark brown like a doe's or a dog's or those of some other impossibly cute animal. They draw Eugene in in the same way, make him willing to forgive her for just about anything because she's so damn cute.

He'll forgive her for teasing him – he always will. And, as long as she knows she can get away with it, she'll keep doing it. A vicious cycle, perhaps, but one which neither of them is about to break. In the same way Eugene has his habits, she has hers, and taunting him is one of them. She likes to take her time, running a finger aimlessly around and scraping her teeth just _near_ what she knows he wants her to touch. But she's too impatient too keep it up for too long; Eugene doesn't have to beg much at all before she changes her tune and is giving it her all. Jumping straight from one extreme to the other is far from unusual for her – a byproduct of her boundless energy.

Eugene runs his fingers through her hair again in a vain attempt to comb it back, knowing fully well he'll have to keep doing so almost constantly if he wants to see her face. The sheer volume of her hair means it goes every direction at the slightest agitation, and is loath to lay flat for even a split second. But Eugene wants to be able to see her face for a few moments, even if it means having to grapple with her mane the whole time. The reward – that shine of triumph in her beautiful eyes when she feels him quiver or hears him whine – is worth the strife. Already he's losing himself, only barely clinging on under the force of Princess all but devouring him; focusing on running his fingers through her hair is the only thing keeping him there, and all of a sudden he understands why she was doing the same to him earlier.

She got all her teasing out of the way early on, so by now she doesn't have any real ambition to make him wait. He pleads a little, but it's clear within a moment that it's not necessary. The flood takes him even quicker than it took her, and she gives a keen of victory when she feels it. Nothing compares to how satisfied she acts when she realizes she _has_ him, as if his climax were an act of conquest on her part. Giddy, like a schoolgirl, wholly pleased with herself. Perhaps it's justified – in the throes of ecstasy, he's hers, nobody else's, can't even imagine it any other way. Nobody else has ever conquered him so wholly like this, even in these same kinds of moments. She's one of a kind, this girl he's landed himself.

She bides her time waiting for him to come down by tracing the trail of hair beneath her navel with one lazy fingertip, kisses down his thighs with a little loving hum after each fall of her lips. Then she feels him brush a lock of hair behind her ear, hears him sigh in quiet contentment at her, and that flare of mischief shines bright in her eyes again. In no more than a heartbeat she's snaked her way between his legs, swung one of hers up over his, and they're all but interlocked with one another.

“One more?” She purrs, grinning like she's getting away with something. Eugene grabs her to kiss her and inadvertently starts up that friction his Princess has primed for him – hers against his, his against hers – and draws in a jagged gasp that breaks his hold on her mouth.

“Greedy girl.” He answers, though it comes off sounding more like admiration than anything. Princess smiles, knowing she has him, and gladly lets him draw her in to reclaim that lost kiss. His taste in her mouth is enchantingly somehow always the same yet just a little bit different.

But it can't last forever, and she breaks away, sweet cinnamon lips still fiendishly curled, so she can watch his face as she starts moving against him.

This isn't focused, as was their previous ritualistic role-reversal; rather, it's quite clumsy, quite aimless, both of them trying to move at once and often misaligning or disrupting the rhythm. Thankfully, as ungainly as it is, the disorder of it doesn't matter – all that's important is the fervor of it. As long as they're still touching, they have all they need. Like this, Eugene can touch her, run his hands over her smooth sloping shoulders, the hard shape of her collarbone, her soft breasts, her slender waist. He doesn't know where to hold on and so he lets his hands go wherever they want. She accepts it all, is _his_ , the same way he is hers.

She breaks first, but only barely. When her movement hits a crescendo, he's ready, then as soon as she stops and staggers he rushes to meet her, harmonizing with her breathy gasps in a deeper, smoother pitch. This is it – this is perfect like nothing else is, perfect like it's never been before. For once, Eugene knows she feels the same, and he's satisfied with it. He doesn't need to ask when she all but collapses on top of him if it was perfect for her too – he knows, like he's always wanted to. He's always wished he could find a someone to share a moment like this with, a moment where they're both sharing the same feelings so wholly they don't even have to speak. For years and years of his life, he wondered if it was impossible.

Princess kisses at the base of his jaw and he breaks out in goosebumps. She never touches his lips, but it's true love's kiss.


End file.
